


just you and me

by Val_Creative



Series: IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019 [37]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Baseball, Canon Gay Character, Explicit Language, Feelings Realization, First Love, M/M, Minor Injuries, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), No Angst, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Romantic Friendship, Summer, Teenage Losers Club (IT), Teenagers, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 23:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: It starts out with the little stuff. Stuff that Richie barely even noticed at first—immediately choosing Eddie as his partner for their science assignments, his bunkmate, his opponent in a game of Street Fighter, his little test rat for pranks. His hammock-sharer.





	just you and me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Polish_NightPhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polish_NightPhoenix/gifts).

> Requested by Polish_NightPhoenix (AO3): "when/how Richie realised he loves Eddie and why Richie eventually decided to carve "R + E" on the Kissing Bridge. Eddie is of course very welcome (as a flashbacks or like "real" appearance)." I TRIED IT. THUMBS UP. LET ME KNOW IF YOU GUYS LIKED IT.

*

It starts out with the little stuff.

Stuff that Richie barely even noticed at first—immediately choosing Eddie as his partner for science assignments, his bunkmate, his opponent in a game of Street Fighter, his little test rat for pranks. His hammock-sharer.

But that feels normal for them. He and Eddie have been inseparable since third grade—_and you can't fake that kind of passion_.

*

All of the neighborhood kids in Derry know that, if they wanna play baseball without their parents interfering, to go the abandoned sand lot of Tracker Bros Trucking Depo.

No matter how old any of the kids were, they were allowed to play with everyone. Richie and the other Losers do play occasionally, and mostly with each other, but Eddie mostly lingers on the sidelines, categorizing his allergy pills. He chases after the fly-balls and wanders in the grass to play mitt with Bill or Stanley.

This time, Richie plays with the rest of the kids and Eddie. It's their team versus Belch Huggins's team.

Not only is Belch the first kid among them to hit _two_ home run balls over the chain-linked fence, but he's _also_ the fastest and most aggressive pitcher.

(Nobody stands a chance.)

Richie's entire left arm stings from Belch purposely aiming for him, darkening a bruise near his elbow. He's not the only one—Lorrie-Ann got hit in the pelvis. She has been crying on the ground ever since, one of her younger friends shushing her and rubbing her back. Marcus Ethan Simmons, from Bill's art class, sulks off after quitting Richie's team, nursing a black eye.

Somehow, their team has bases loaded. If all of them, including whoever pitches, makes a home run—they beat Belch's team.

Eddie steps up, awkwardly lifting his baseball bat and inspecting it, testing his newly healed arm by swinging a little. No more cast. A volley of swear-words and groans echo through the sand lot. Can't tell who it comes from.

"Move in! Move in!" one of the Belch's teammates hollers through cupped hands. "Girly-Boy's here!"

_"Pussy!"_

Richie sees Eddie's face scrunching up, whitening with twin spots of red.

He joins him over in the dirt, touching Eddie's forearm. "Hey, Eds—you don't gotta—" Richie mumbles. He hesitates at the look Eddie gives him. _Determination_. The kind that runs right down into your bones, stern and hardhearted. The kind Richie could never question from his best friend.

Eddie marches up to the canvas-base, flexing his shoulders. It's sweltering hot, blue day. Perfect for another summer.

Belch winds up, smirking and cackling lowly. He throws.

"Strike!"

Richie winces, gritting his teeth and sucking in a hissing breath.

_Fuck_.

Everyone else starts booing in the grass, watching their ball-game. The kids on the bases either glance at each other in annoyance or look like they're praying for a miracle. Eddie narrows his eyes heatedly at Belch, as the older boy farts on the next baseball, earning himself a round of laughter.

"Str—!"

The old, wooden baseball bat cracks the ball into the air, interrupting the older high-schooler playing referee.

Silence rises with it, and then falls over both teams and Richie. All of the little kids jump up to their feet in the grass. As soon as the ball soars over the fence, vanishing, every kid watching this historic moment bursts into excitable, high-pitched screaming, waving their arms. Even Belch's team.

Belch himself stares gobsmacked between the fence and Eddie.

Eddie remains frozen in place, for several seconds, before gazing astonished to Richie who screams out "GO! GO—_EDDIE, GO!"_ Eddie's face morphs from shock into pure, overpowering glee.

Richie's heart races along with Eddie's footsteps taking off as he dashes to every base, following closely after their teammates leaping victoriously onto home-plate.

Not a complaint about Eddie's asthma. Or the flecks of mud splattering onto the fabric of Eddie's shorts. Richie screams out "_WHAT_—!? _WHAT_—!? _WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT_—!?" over the deafening noise of everyone else, as Eddie flies off the last canvas-base, throwing himself at Richie and hugging him fiercely.

They laugh their heads off, hugging harder, spinning around clumsily.

Other kids join them, hugging, cheering out Eddie's name—and in the middle, all Richie can see is Eddie's sweaty, pink-sunburned face. His grin. So broad and bright that Richie can hardly draw in air. It's too crowded. They're surrounded, and Richie has the urge to vanish with Eddie.

But, it can't happen like that.

Eddie grins right at him and turns to the screaming, hyperactive crowd. Richie's smile fades into a softer, dreamier fondness. That's when the little stuff feels monumental—Richie, standing motionless, watching as the other boy gets hauled out of Richie's arms, sprayed with a water bottle. Eddie's dark, cropped hair mussed by someone else's hand.

Eddie, Eddie, _Eddie_ and all of his anger and insecurities and dumb sicknesses. More beautiful than Richie's ever seen.

That's when Richie's feelings don't feel so _little_ anymore.

*

By dusk, they've wandered back to Eddie's house. Mrs. Kaspbrak waits on the porch, huffing down and screeching, wailing about how filthy her son looks. How he needs to get inside and wash up_—Eddie, Eddie-bear_—and, Eddie looks over his shoulder to Richie, grinning like a million birthday candles.

Warm. Glorious. And it's terrifying and wonderful how Richie loves him.

Oh god—he _loves_ Eddie.

Richie's fingers clutch desperately over his tee, below the space of his heart.

*

He hurries back to his own house, flipping on his bedroom lights, ignoring his sister cursing him out.

Richie rummages his desk-drawer, finding the long strip of photo-booth photos. Him and Eddie leaning together in the group of friends. Making silly faces. Richie's arms folding on top of Eddie's head. They've survived the Neibolt House, a demon-clown and Henry _fucking_ Bowers.

At this point, maybe, he and Eddie can survive anything else life throws them.

Richie digs out his switch-blade in the drawer, placing it on top of his photo-strip. He'll go to the bridge tomorrow. Make it official.

(Eddie will never have to know. This is Richie's secret—and Richie will be damned if anyone spoils it.)

*


End file.
